Howard Cook sat across the meeting room table from Kit and handed her a sandwich from the deli down the street. “They had a twofer sale.”
Connor Robinson rolled his eyes. “They did not.”
Howard threw his partner an irritated look. “Hush, Connor. Everyone knows she doesn’t stop for lunch.”
Kit hadn’t, but it kind of bothered her that her colleagues talked about it. Cops were the worst gossips. “Thank you. I grabbed a granola bar, but that was a while ago.” She plucked the receipt from the bag where it was stapled. “I’ll pay you back.”
Howard shrugged. “Fine. I don’t know about you guys, but my day was mostly unproductive. I went through the runaway lists up to twenty years ago and separated out the petite blondes between fourteen and eighteen, but not a single report mentioned drama club. I went forward a year and found that Ricki Emerson’s report listed drama club, but we already knew about her.”
“Ricki Emerson’s body was discovered eight years ago, right?” Connor asked.
Kit nodded. “Yes, but she’d gone missing two years before that. Baz and I reinterviewed the family, but no one knew anything about any auditions back then. She might have kept it secret, though, like Naomi Beckham did.”
She told them about her visit with Naomi’s brother and the follow-up with the principal of her high school.
Connor was shaking his head by the time she finished. “Teenage girls are such bitches. I do not miss that about high school.”
“I think we remember the bitches,” Howard said quietly. “There were plenty of quiet, nice girls in school. But the bitches tended to be the loudest. And most popular.”
“I was popular,” Connor said, and it surprisingly didn’t sound like he was bragging. Just stating a fact. “Was homecoming king, even. I kept checking my back at the dance to make sure the queen hadn’t stuck a shiv in my back. She was brutal.”
Kit had hated the popular crowd in high school. Of course, she’d been focused on finding Wren’s murderer and hadn’t joined in on any school activities. Harlan and Betsy never pushed her to, either. One more reason she loved them.
“Madison was like that,” she said. “Very arrogant. I’d be totally shocked if she wasn’t prom queen. But she did give us something important. The Orion School.”
Connor whistled quietly. “I’ve heard of that place. Posh as fuck. One of my girlfriends went there.”
Kit blinked at him. “Really? How did you meet her?”
“She lived in our neighborhood when we were in high school. Met her at the country club when I went with my folks. I was captain of the football team and she liked muscles.” He shrugged. “She was shallow. But so was I, so we were good for about two months. Then we graduated. I went on to UCSD and she went to Juilliard. She’s on Broadway now. I see her from time to time, though, when she’s home visiting her family.” He smirked. “She still likes muscles.”
Kit almost laughed but swallowed it so that she didn’t encourage him. He was impossible. But maybe useful. “Do you think she’d have any insider info on Orion? Because I called them on my way from seeing Principal Larkin and asked to speak to the director. I couldn’t get past the front desk. The director is supposed to call me back tomorrow or when they ‘get a free moment.’ I’m going to have to go in person and flash my badge. It would be great if we could get some background information about the staff, because I’m betting they put me off today so that they can call in the lawyers before they call me back.”
“I’ll call her when we’re done. She’s in a show now, so I might not talk to her until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Connor,” Kit said sincerely.
Connor looked pleased. “You’re welcome. Do you think the gray-haired man actually worked at the Orion School?”
Kit had spent most of her drive back to the station considering this very question. “I don’t know. It’s certainly possible.”
“I’ll ask my friend about scholarships,” Connor said. “Who got them, who gave them, and what the decision process was. If she can give us the name of a scholarship recipient, we can ask questions before going to the hallowed halls of Orion. I don’t think Orion would be too receptive to a fishing expedition, but if you already knew exactly what to ask, it’d go better.”
Kit had been thinking the same thing. “Excellent.” She noted it in her file. “What else?”
“I found Skyler Carville’s car,” Howard said. “It had been towed to a city impound lot. She’d parked on the street on a yellow curb.”
The yellow curbs were commercial loading zones. Parking was prohibited in the daytime but allowed at night.
“She only meant to meet for drinks,” she murmured. “I’m sure she figured she’d be back well before sunrise. Where’s her car now?”
“Had CSU pick it up,” Howard said. “They’re going over it. I doubt they’ll find anything, but we could be surprised. My visit to Jaelyn’s school yielded nothing. No one knew about any auditions nor had they seen a gray-haired man with glasses unless you want to count half the male teachers on the faculty.”
“That’s what Principal Larkin said,” Kit said.
“About a quarter of the male teachers at Cecilia’s school,” Connor added. “But no one caught anyone’s notice. Like none of the gray-haired men were creepy or hovering or anything. Nobody knew anything about any audition, secret or otherwise. Cecilia had played lacrosse the year before but was also in the drama club. She’d starred in Oklahoma in her freshman year.”
“Like Naomi played the lead in The Little Mermaid,” Kit said.
“Oh!” Howard looked excited. “Jaelyn played Golde in Fiddler in her freshman year.”
Kit shared his excitement. “Maybe that’s how he found victims. He saw them onstage. We’ll have to explore who attended their plays.”
Connor held up a hand. “Before you go that direction, I have more. I talked to Cecilia’s lacrosse coach, too. They’d been looking at her getting an athletic scholarship, but she’d gotten hurt over the summer. ACL. It was a bad injury.”
Kit winced. “That could’ve dashed any athletic scholarship dreams.”
Connor nodded. “Her coach said she wasn’t devastated, though. That her parents were the ones pushing the athletic scholarships. Cecilia wanted to go to acting school.”
Kit’s breath caught. “Did the coach mention Orion School?”
“No, but she did say that Cecilia was looking at her ACL as a gift.”
“Did her parents know this?” Howard asked.
“Her coach didn’t think so. She said that she’d offered to talk to Cecilia’s parents with her, but then Cecilia disappeared and her coach didn’t want to hurt the folks any more than they already were.”
“So she might have been lured by an acting scholarship the same way that Naomi was,” Kit said thoughtfully. “Did Jaelyn’s school mention anything about Orion School?”
Howard shook his head. “Maybe we should pay another visit to her family. Ask any of them if she mentioned an acting scholarship.”
“He might have used a different lure,” Connor said.
“Quite possible,” Kit agreed. “Howard, please contact the Wattses again and ask them. But be gentle with them. They fell apart when they identified Jaelyn’s body at the morgue. And then Tamsin Kavanaugh swooped in on them like they were prey, just so she could get a story.”
Howard winced. “They didn’t deserve that.”
Kit sighed. “No, they didn’t.” She turned to Connor. “Did you find Daryl Chesney? The metal detector kid?”
“Yes and no.” Connor took out his phone and brought up a photo. “Is this the kid you talked to?”
Kit studied the photo. “That’s him, but he’s a little younger and neater in this picture. His hair was longer when I saw him and his eyes were slyer. This kid in the picture looks happy, but on Sunday he looked more . . . opportunistic, I think. I figured he’d try selling his story to the paper. I’m surprised Kavanaugh hasn’t interviewed him already. What did he say?”
“I didn’t talk to him. I went to the address you gave me, but Daryl Chesney’s gone missing.”
Kit gaped at him. “You should have led with this,” she snapped.
Connor looked genuinely taken aback. “You were going down your list in order. You like things in order. I figured we’d get to it.”
Kit felt bad. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off. What do you mean, he’s missing? Since when and from where?”
“He didn’t come home Sunday night. His mother’s been worried sick and she filed a missing-person report yesterday evening. She thought she had to wait twenty-four hours.”
“So, Daryl Chesney leads us very conveniently to a body and then he disappears?” She didn’t like the sound of that. “Does he disappear often?”
“Not according to the mother. But she also said he’d gotten mixed up with some kids that hang on the corner. I talked to them, too, and they claim that he’d bragged about earning some cash but wouldn’t tell them from where. He didn’t want to have to share it with them.”
Kit rubbed her temples. “Shit.”
“He’s probably dead,” Howard murmured.
Connor nodded. “I mean, I hope we’re wrong, but I don’t think we are.”
“Let’s check his records to see who contacted him,” Howard said.
“Cheap pay-as-you-go cell,” Connor said. “I asked. His friends were cagey about their phones. Said none of them had nice phones, that they all used cheap ones from Walmart. Nobody could afford a plan. I think they were dealing and using burners. I got surveillance video from the grocery store across the street and it showed a mud-splattered black Mercedes slowing down to talk to the boys Sunday morning. Daryl was with them.”
Kit’s smile was so big that her cheeks hurt. “Bingo. Plates?”
Connor made a face. “Covered in mud. Couldn’t see the numbers.”
Her smile dimmed but didn’t disappear. “But we know that he’s still driving a Mercedes.”
Connor nodded. “And that he’s bold AF. It was a low-risk way to hide his plates. If he got stopped by a cop, he’d just promise to wash his plates and no one would be the wiser.”
“This is coming together,” she said with satisfaction.
“We still need to canvass the Little Italy bars to find out where Skyler Carville was taken from,” Howard said, sliding pieces of paper to her and Connor. “This is the list of bars in the vicinity of where her car was towed from. I split the places into three groups of five bars. We can all take a group and message back if we find one that remembers Skyler.”
“Good work,” Kit told him. “I’ll take the first five—” She was cut off by her cell phone’s ringtone and her heart stuttered before beginning to pound.
Sam Reeves was calling.
“McKittrick,” she answered, not putting it on speaker.
“Detective. I’ve got some information that you need to see.”
He’d said that he was never telling her anything again. She wondered what had changed. “What is it?” she asked, conscious of Howard and Connor watching her.
“I’ve been talking to Maureen Epstein.”
Anger pulsed up from Kit’s gut. “What?”
“She talked to me. She has video. Of Colton.” He sighed. “Getting killed.”
Kit was stunned into speechlessness for a few seconds. “Did you say that Maureen Epstein has video of Colton Driscoll’s murder?”
Both men stared at her, openmouthed.
“I did,” Sam confirmed. “She’s scared, Detective. And she has legal representation. Laura Letterman is with me.”
“I see.” Although she didn’t see at all. How the hell did Maureen Epstein get video of Driscoll’s murder? And why was Letterman with him? Maybe they were reconnecting, although Kit had given Sam more credit than to crawl back to the woman who’d cheated on him. But that didn’t matter. What did matter was that Maureen had talked to him. Maybe he did have a miracle voice. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call.
“Maureen Epstein has video of Driscoll’s murder?” Connor asked, still looking as stunned as she felt.
“I guess so. You guys get started on canvassing these bars for Skyler. I’ll check out my five bars when I’m done with the Epsteins.” She had hours before her appointment with Dr. Scott. “But I’m telling Navarro first. I’ll be in touch.”
Gathering her papers, she rushed from the room.
“Kit,” Howard called and she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Your sandwich.”
With a grateful smile she grabbed it and practically ran to Navarro’s office.
Mira Mesa, California
Tuesday, April 19, 5:05 p.m.
Eyes wide, Kit watched Driscoll being murdered, Navarro at her side at the Epsteins’ kitchen table. She hadn’t quite believed Sam until she’d watched Maureen’s video—four simultaneous views on the screen, one from each camera—with her own eyes.
When the screen went dark, Kit looked down the table where Maureen huddled, her eyes swollen and red. Her parents stood on either side of her like an honor guard.
Sam Reeves and his attorney sat beside her. Letterman had informed them that she was representing the girl.
For trespassing. As if that paltry offense even registered on the radar compared to what the girl had captured. The illegal recording was a bigger deal, but still not even close to what they’d gained.
She glanced at Navarro, who tilted his head as if to say Go for it.
“Let’s get the big issue dealt with. Maureen, you know what you did was wrong, right? Breaking and entering and illegal recording are serious.”
Maureen swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered.
Laura Letterman started to open her mouth, but Kit stayed her with a raised hand. “Please, Ms. Letterman. Let me finish before you jump in. So, Maureen, I have to write this up, but you have a good lawyer and I’ll make sure the prosecutor has all the facts. It will be all right.”
“What does that mean?” David asked stiffly, his hand gripping his daughter’s shoulder.
“It means,” Kit said as kindly as she could, “worst case, she’ll have a misdemeanor on her record, but she’s a juvenile and we can have it sealed. Best case, charges will be dropped because of her contribution to this case. I think we can work with Ms. Letterman to keep this from having any long-term detrimental effects on Maureen’s life.”
Kit saw Sam Reeves’s shoulders lower a few inches. He’d been worried about what she’d do. He noticed her attention and gave her a slight nod. Thank you, he mouthed.
Maureen’s parents also relaxed, David’s grip on Maureen’s shoulder loosening to a gentle squeeze.
“Thank God,” Gemma whispered.
“We’ll push for a total drop of charges,” Letterman said briskly.
“I figured you would, Ms. Letterman. That’ll be up to whichever prosecutor you draw. But I’ll put in a good word for Maureen.” Kit lifted her brows, keeping her tone mild as she addressed the still-pale teenager. “I would have put in an even better word if you’d told me the first three times I asked you, but I understand why you were scared.”
Maureen nodded timidly. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Kit said. “How did you even get into Driscoll’s house? Didn’t he have an alarm?”
“If he did, it didn’t go off. I waited for him to go to work, then I went in through his garage door. It was a flimsy lock. There’s a YouTube video on how to pick them.”
Of course there is. “Just . . . stay out of people’s houses, okay? And no more recording people without consent.”
“I won’t,” Maureen promised.
“Thank you. Now, to the video. It answers a lot of questions.” It also confirmed that the Top-Siders on Driscoll’s feet had been an attempt to connect him to Jaelyn Watts’s grave near the pond in the park. How Driscoll’s killer had known about the footprint was currently unknown. She’d put it on her follow-up list, because it was a critical point. Tamsin Kavanaugh hadn’t included that detail in her article.
Kit would also bet that the bag the masked man carried had held brand-new handcuffs and a can of sparkly pink spray paint. It was all planted.
So what had Driscoll actually done?
He’d known about at least three of the victims—Jaelyn’s grave in Longview Park, Cecilia’s lacrosse, and Naomi’s love of Avondale—but had he been involved in killing them?
And what was on those hard drives his killer had taken from his safe?
“But it also threatens my daughter,” David said. “If Driscoll’s partner finds out that she made the video, her life is in danger.”
“We can ask for a safe house,” Kit said, “but it might be better if you all went out of town for a little while. Maybe visit out-of-state family?”
Maureen looked at Laura Letterman. “What do you think I should do?”
“I think going away sounds like a good idea,” the lawyer said. “But I’ll make the arrangements and get you a rental car. I’ll pick you up and take you to the rental car. Pay for gas with cash. That way no one can track you.” She smiled at Maureen. “Just in case.”
“We’ll go,” David said. “But for how long? I can’t take off work forever and Maureen has school.”
“Get your wife and daughter settled wherever you decide to go,” Laura said. “Then you can come back. I can find a place for you to stay until it’s safe for Maureen to return. Tell her teachers that you have a family emergency and have to go away. Ask if Maureen can do her subjects virtually. If you run into issues, let me know. Plan on leaving tonight.”
Kit chanced a glance at Sam, expecting him to be focused on his ex-girlfriend. His lawyer. Whatever. But he was watching Kit, his expression kind of sad, and she spared a second to wonder why before turning back to Maureen.
“Do you have any copies of the video?” Kit asked.
The girl shook her head. “I don’t. That’s the original, on my laptop. Do you need to take it?”
“Afraid so. At least until we download the video onto our server. We’ll scrub it from your laptop afterward.”
That Maureen had obtained the evidence illegally wasn’t likely to be a problem. There was precedent for police to use evidence obtained by private citizens, even if illegally obtained. The citizen had to face the consequences for however they’d gotten the evidence, but Maureen would do that.
Kit would keep her promise to do everything possible to keep this from ruining Maureen’s life, because she understood the need to do something to avenge her family. Luckily Harlan had kept Kit from doing anything stupid back then.
Navarro touched Kit’s shoulder. “I’ll be going. I can take the laptop with me.”
“Thank you. I’ll ask CSU to go over that beam in Driscoll’s house again. Hopefully the rope he used to haul Driscoll up left some trace evidence. See you back at the office.”
Navarro pointedly looked at his watch. “Remember.”
She wanted to forget that she had an appointment with Dr. Scott tonight, but Navarro would follow through on his threat and make her go more often.
But if this killer suspected they were getting closer, would he kill another Skyler Carville to further incriminate Sam Reeves, trying to throw them off his scent? They needed to solve this case soon.
But it was just one hour out of her life, so she nodded. “Of course.”
Navarro shifted his pointed gaze to Reeves. “Dr. Reeves, thank you for this information. Please don’t do it again.”
“Of course,” Sam said mildly.
Kit didn’t need to be a shrink to know that meant Sam was totally doing it again.
Scowling, Navarro left with the laptop, and Kit returned her attention to Maureen. “So, seeing a murder is a big deal. I see bodies often and it still bothers me. Nightmares, y’know.”
Maureen nodded, her eyes haunted. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Maybe Dr. Reeves can recommend someone for you to talk to,” she suggested gently. Kit herself wasn’t going to therapy voluntarily, but this girl was so young, her life touched by the ripples.
Sam looked surprised. “Yes, of course. Ms. Letterman can tell me where you’ll be, and I’ll find you someone. Or I can recommend a therapist who does virtual appointments. Not the same thing as in-person therapy, but it can be useful nonetheless.”
Maureen nodded. “Okay. I just don’t want anyone else to die.”
Kit’s gaze flew to Sam and her mouth opened, then closed. What did you tell her? Did you tell her that there was another killer?
Although it really didn’t matter. The fact that they were asking folks about a man with gray hair, glasses, and a black Mercedes would tip someone off sooner rather than later. Principal Larkin from Naomi’s school had already figured it out.
Sam didn’t look away, meeting her eyes with polite defiance.
Kit pushed away from the table. “Okay. We won’t process any paperwork on Maureen’s offenses until she’s safe. Then we’ll talk consequences and the prosecutor can work the deal.”
Letterman nodded. “Thank you, Detective.”
The Epsteins echoed the thanks and Kit made her way to the front door. She was almost to her car when Sam’s voice stopped her.
“Detective McKittrick.”
She turned, watching him approach. The evening sun had turned the sky pink, picking up reddish highlights in his hair, surprising her. She’d thought it was nearly black.
He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’m sorry.”
She tilted her head. “For what?”
“For saying you were unfeeling. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Kit shrugged, uncomfortable with the apology because she hadn’t blamed him. “But you’re sticking with the stupid part?”
He huffed. “Not that part, either. I was upset and I took it out on you.”
“I understand. I really do, more than you know.”
He swallowed and she caught herself staring at his throat. She jerked her gaze back to his face, only to be blindsided by his next words.
“I didn’t know about your sister. Laura told me.”
Kit stiffened. It was one thing if she brought Wren up, and she really didn’t do that very often. She had with Rita because the girl had needed to know that she wasn’t alone.
Maybe Sam is trying to say the same thing.
She drew a breath. “Not a good time in my life,” she said and hoped he’d leave it there. She was grateful when he did.
“Thank you for helping Maureen.”
“You’re welcome. Please, don’t do it again.”
He shrugged. “No promises.”
Her mouth curved before she could stop it. “Where are you going next?”
“Colton’s ex-wives.”
“They wouldn’t talk.”
He didn’t say a word, simply lifting his brows.
Kit sighed. “I know, Maureen didn’t talk to me, either, but she talked to you.”
“Maybe you wore her down so that she was ready when I came by.”
Kit laughed quietly. “Very gentlemanly of you. Oh, I wanted to tell you that I saw Nathan Beckham this morning. I had his school counselor with me, and she called a social worker. They’re referring him for therapy. I hope it helps him.”
“Thank you. That was . . . good of you to do.”
She took a step back, mainly because she wanted to stay and talk to him some more and that wasn’t okay. “Well, thank you for calling me tonight, especially after you said you’d never tell me anything again.”
“I’ve become better informed. Joel and Laura both speak highly of you.”
Joel’s approval didn’t surprise her, but Letterman’s did, and that made Kit more than a little disgruntled. She didn’t want to like the woman.
The woman who’d lived with Sam Reeves for four years before cheating on him.
But that did not matter. It did not. It could not.
But she wanted it to. It can’t. I can’t.
“That’s good to hear. I have an appointment that I need to get to, so I have to go. Have a good evening,” she said, waving over her shoulder as she turned and all but ran to her car. She had two hours before her appointment with Dr. Scott, but if she’d stayed, she might have started making small talk with Sam. And that wouldn’t do at all. He was technically still a suspect. And a shrink to boot.
If she ever found herself in a relationship, it would be with a man who wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze her every time she opened her mouth.
She’d get some dinner and then she’d see Baz. And forget all about Sam Reeves and how nice he was. How smart. How . . . cute.
Stop it.
When she got to the end of the street, she looked in her rearview mirror. He was still standing in the Epsteins’ driveway, watching as she drove away.
Chollas Creek, California
Tuesday, April 19, 7:00 p.m.
“Thank you,” Sam said quietly as Laura pulled into a parking place in front of Colton’s fourth wife’s apartment building. Sam had told her to take him back to Joel’s house after they’d finished at the Epsteins’, but she’d shaken her head, making travel arrangements for the family on her cell phone while she drove. After she’d finished, they’d driven the rest of the way in silence, but it hadn’t been awkward.
If nothing else, he and Laura could get some closure on the ending of their relationship.
“I told you that I’d stick with you,” she said. “Today was the only day I could free up completely, so we need to make the most of it. Tomorrow I can’t pick you up until the afternoon, so arrange who you want to see by priority.”
“That’s not necessary, Laura. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Stop. First, you’re worth it. Second, I want to do the right thing here. So many people I defend are guilty as sin. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t feel bad for defending them. It’s their right under the law, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t like to feel like a hero every now and then.”
Sam exhaled. “Thank you.”
She smiled wistfully. “Third, I truly want to make amends. Thank you for giving me the chance. I don’t kid myself that you’re ever going to forgive me. I was an idiot and . . . Well, I lost a good thing with you. You deserve good things, Sammy.”
“Forgiveness and trust are two different things,” he murmured. Because he might be able to forgive her, but he’d never trust her again. Not with his heart anyway. Apparently, he trusted her enough to safeguard his freedom.
Laura nodded in understanding before she looked away, watching some little kids playing on a set of swings. “You were really good with her.”
“Maureen? She was ready to talk.”
Laura’s lips curved sadly. “I meant McKittrick.”
Sam startled. “When?”
She shrugged. “I might have followed you when you followed her out of the Epsteins’ place. I wanted to be sure she didn’t try to coerce you into anything.”
“I thought you admired her.”
“Admiration and trust are two different things,” she said lightly. “Especially when it comes to your freedom. But she did surprise the hell out of me by agreeing to hold processing of any charges against Maureen until she’s no longer in danger. That could be a long time.”
Sam’s heart sank, because that meant his life would be on hold for a long time, too. “Hopefully not, especially if she’s as good at her job as you and Joel seem to think.”
Her nod was brisk. “Here’s hoping. Are you ready for wife number four? She’s home.” Laura pointed at an older Ford with rusted fenders. “That’s her car.”
Sam hadn’t even noticed. “Then let’s go talk to her.”
When they knocked on Veronica Gadd’s door, she opened it with a frown. She was very young, having married Colton when she was only eighteen—just like his other three wives. They’d been divorced for two years and married for less than one, so Veronica was barely old enough to buy alcohol. “I’m not interested.”
“Please,” Sam said. “I’m not selling anything. I wanted to talk to you about Colton.”
Veronica’s expression shut down. “No comment.”
Sam started to put his hand on the door, then dropped it to his side. “I’m not a reporter or a cop. I’m a psychologist. My name is Dr. Reeves. One of the victims was my friend.” Not Colton’s victim, but he didn’t feel bad for the obfuscation.
Veronica’s shoulders sagged. “I’m so sorry for your loss, but I was only married to Colton for a year. I don’t know anything about him. Nothing that could help you, anyway.”
Sam looked over his shoulder. One of Veronica’s neighbors was peeking around her slightly open door. “May we come in, Ms. Gadd? I’d really rather not have this conversation in front of your neighbors.”
Veronica scowled at the neighbor. “Mind your own business, Gertie.” She rolled her eyes. “That woman lives to spy. Look, my place is a mess. I wasn’t ready for company.”
She was nervous about allowing him in and Sam got that. “Could we take a walk, maybe?”
Veronica eyed Laura. “Who’s she?”
Sam glanced at Laura. “She’s my ex. But she’s generously helping me out.”
He’d snagged Veronica’s interest with that tidbit. “Okay. Fine. Let me get my jacket.”
They walked with her down the apartment stairs, waiting until they were outside before Sam spoke again. “This is Laura Letterman. She’s also my attorney.”
Veronica gave Laura a curious look. “There’s a picnic area down the way. It’ll be mostly empty this time of day.”
There was a picnic table near the swing set that they’d seen from the parking lot. The children were gone and it was quiet.
Veronica sat on one of the benches and Sam and Laura sat on the other side. “Thank you,” Sam said. “We won’t take much of your time. As you know, Colton is accused of killing several young women. I was trying to be a Good Samaritan and help the police, and now I’m also a suspect.”
Veronica’s eyes widened. “How?”
“He had a partner,” Sam said bluntly. Kit would probably be angry that he’d disclosed this, but he was growing desperate, a sick urgency twisting his gut. He didn’t want anyone else to die. Plus, Kit’s holding back information hadn’t helped her get these folks to talk. Time for a different approach. “And that man killed my friend over the weekend. I was camping all alone.”
“No alibi,” Veronica murmured. “He set you up to take the fall.”
“Exactly. So, I’m trying to find out who his partner might have been. I was hoping you might know someone Colton was close to. Maybe someone he spent time with.”
Veronica scoffed. “Like Brad Pitt or Prince William?”
Sam sighed. “So, he’s been doing that for a while, huh?”
“I was so stupid. Naive. Maybe I still am, because I’m sitting here talking to you. I should go.”
Laura pulled out her phone, tapped the screen, then handed it to Veronica. “This is an article about Dr. Reeves. He is a psychologist who volunteers with homeless youth at New Horizons. He’s not lying to you. He’s a good man and doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him.”
Sam looked at Laura in surprise, but Veronica said nothing, reading the article carefully before returning Laura’s phone to her outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” Veronica said to Laura. “This does make me feel a bit better. Ask your questions, Dr. Reeves. I’ll answer what I’m able.”
“Did Colton have friends?”
“Not that I knew. He talked about a few of his high school buddies, but they never gave him the time of day. One of those buddies—Brian—finally called me after Colton had seen him in a bar and bragged about how he’d ‘bagged a pretty young thing.’ Brian warned me that I’d married a pathological liar, but I wasn’t ready to hear it then. He’s an attorney, too. Helped me get a divorce when I finally was ready to admit I’d fucked up. I’ve started a new life since then, and I’m getting past Colton and his mind games.”
Pretty young thing. Sam couldn’t quite stifle his shudder. “What kind of mind games?”
“Telling me that he knew a Hollywood agent who’d make me a star. That was the big one. The one that hooked me in. I was only seventeen at the time and humiliatingly gullible. He didn’t start with the celebrity lies until after we were married. He was so good to me at the beginning, buying me things and taking me to dinner. Saying sweet things. I thought I’d met a Prince Charming, but he turned out to be far worse than anything I could have imagined—again, after we got married. Then he’d get so angry.”
“Did he hit you?” Laura asked softly.
Veronica nodded. “That’s why Brian helped me. He saw me in the grocery store one day and I hadn’t quite been able to cover the bruise with concealer and big sunglasses. He was so sad. Because I wasn’t the first wife who’d left Colton. He and his wife took me in when I finally walked away from Colton because I didn’t have anywhere else to go after I’d moved in with him. They helped me go to college. I’m working on my BSN in nursing. It’s taking me a while because I’m working full time, but I’m getting there. I’m just grateful I got away before Colton killed me.”
“He beat up his neighbor, too,” Sam said, and Veronica’s eyes widened.
“Who?”
“David Epstein.”
Veronica’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “He was so nice to me. Is he okay?”
Sam nodded. “He’s mostly recovered now, but after meeting him, I’m not surprised to hear that Colton hit you, too. But I promised I wouldn’t take much of your time. He really had no friends? No one he worked with that he was close to?”
“No. I’m sorry, but for the year I lived with him, the only people he talked to were the guys he played video games with online.” She tilted her head. “I was shocked to hear that he’d committed suicide. I didn’t think he had it in him. He whined about getting a splinter in his pinkie finger.”
Sam wasn’t going to tell her that Colton had been murdered. That would be McKittrick’s job. “Did he get splinters often?”
“Oh no. He didn’t like physical labor. I was the one who had to keep up the house, mow the lawn.”
Which explained why the lawn was so overgrown. Colton had lost his full-time laborer. “I heard that he was an IT guru a while back. I guess he was more used to working on computers.”
“Yeah, he’d talk about the time he used to work for a big company. Sometimes it was Apple and sometimes it was Microsoft. He’d say he was the one who really thought of all the technology, and the famous guys just took credit for his work and forced him out, so he started his own consulting company. He told me that he had an office in this high-rise downtown. I went to visit him once. Only once.”
“What happened?” Sam asked, although he suspected what was coming.
She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “I asked the front desk which office was his and the receptionist told me that he worked in the mail room. I didn’t believe it, so she walked me to the mail room to show me. He turned around and saw me standing in the doorway with my mouth hanging open and he was so embarrassed.”
“How bad was it that time?” Laura asked, her normally sharp tone incredibly gentle.
“I couldn’t move for hours after he was through with me. Just curled up on the floor in my own blood.” She grimaced. “That’s when I called Brian, who helped me. He and his wife came over because Colton would always leave after he hit me. I don’t know where he went, but he was usually even madder when he came back. I didn’t want to be there when he came back, so Brian and Beth helped me pack my things and got me out of there. I’m sure Colton told everyone that it was my fault. That I’d done him wrong. That’s what he said about his other wives. He was a liar, through and through. I think he even believed the lies sometimes.”
Sam sighed. “He might have. Did you report him to the police?”
“No. Brian and Beth wanted me to, but I just wanted to be gone. I thought about it later, but I’d just freeze up, so I put it off. And now he’s dead, so it doesn’t matter.” She smiled crookedly. “Sorry. You came to ask me questions about Colton’s acquaintances and I’ve gone off about other things.”
“It’s okay,” Sam assured her. “But I would like to ask about his computers.” He thought of the hard drives that Colton’s killer had forced him to remove from his safe and wondered what he’d saved to them. “Did he have a lot of them?”
“No. Just a laptop. But he was obsessive about it. I wasn’t allowed to touch it. Not even to dust it. I did once and . . .” She touched her right eye. “Swelled so bad that I couldn’t see out of it for a week.”
Sam exhaled. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
She shrugged. “I know what kind of man not to fall for now. So something good came of it.”
Sam nodded, hoping that was true. He’d seen too many people—male, female, and nonbinary—who kept choosing the same kind of partners. It was a savage cycle.
“What do you mean, obsessive about his computers?” he asked.
“Oh, he was always backing his laptop up.” She rolled her eyes. “He had this stack of hard drives and they might have been gold bars for how he guarded them.”
Yes. “What was on them?” Sam asked, wanting to sound only interested, not desperate. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded because she grew very serious.
“I have no idea, but he had a lot of them. I only saw inside the safe once, from across the room, but it was filled up. Had to have been twenty or thirty of those drives. Maybe more. The big ones, like a deck of cards. I once asked if they were movies and he laughed and said that they were better than movies. I still don’t know what he meant.”
Now all those hard drives were gone, confiscated by Colton’s killer, and—
Wait. Twenty or thirty? There were only ten in the safe when Colton had been forced to empty it. Assuming that Veronica was right, what had happened to the others?
“Did he have any other hiding places?” Sam asked.
Veronica paled. “Oh my God. What was on them? Please say it wasn’t kiddie porn. Please.”
“I don’t know,” Sam said honestly. “But why did you ask that?”
“Because he likes his ‘pretty young things.’ ” She pointed to herself. “I looked a lot younger than eighteen when he met me. I looked fifteen, tops. He really liked that.”
Sam had to swallow back the bile that burned his throat. “You think he was into child pornography?” Sam asked.
“Honestly? Yeah. I mean, I don’t think he was actively out there abusing kids. He was too scared of getting caught. But he had proxies and these VPNs so he could do untraceable searches. But I didn’t ask questions. By then I was afraid of him.”
“I don’t blame you,” Sam murmured.
She shook her head. “I look back at that year and wonder how I even survived. One time, he hit me with a shovel.”
Laura blanched, then drew a breath. “A shovel? I thought you said he didn’t do manual labor.”
Veronica looked a little startled. “I-I don’t know, he must have been doing manual labor that day. I blacked out after he hit me and I had horrible headaches after, so I didn’t give any more thought as to what he’d been doing with the shovel. I had a concussion for sure. He was a real bastard. I can’t say that I’m sorry he’s dead.”
“I don’t blame you for that, either.” Sam leaned on the picnic table, bracing himself on his forearms. “Did you notice anything different outside when you were able to think again?”
She paled even further. “Did he bury someone in the backyard? Oh my God.”
Sam thought that was entirely possible. “Tell me about the backyard.”
She closed her eyes, trembling. Sam hated that he was making her relive this, but Colton’s partner—whoever he was—would keep killing unless he was stopped. If there was any chance Colton had buried evidence, McKittrick needed to know about it.
“He changed the backyard,” Veronica said slowly. “Yeah, he did. Before the shovel, we had some lawn chairs and a crappy old table. But then later, it was nice. And he had a firepit, but not dug into the ground. It was movable, with a propane tank. Had these pretty rocks. He said he’d made the yard pretty because he was sorry that he’d accidentally hit me with the shovel. But it wasn’t an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Sam’s heart was racing. Whatever—or whoever—Colton had buried, it had to be important. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to remember all this.”
She smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I never really forgot. I just blocked out the most painful stuff. He was . . . really rough, you know?”
“Sex?” Laura asked gently.
Veronica nodded. “Especially when he’d come back from wherever he went to blow off steam. Like I said, he’d be worse when he came back—and always horny.” She touched her throat. “He was into breath play. Strangling me, you know. Thought he’d kill me a few times.”
Sam remembered Colton’s hands twisting, strangling that bottle in his office. Maybe Colton had just come back from killing someone the night Veronica was remembering. Like Jaelyn or Cecilia or Naomi.
Sam was glad he hadn’t had dinner yet.
“Do you remember when this was?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. All the times just kind of blended together. The only time anyone ever saw the abuse was when Brian saw me at the grocery store and when he and Beth helped me get away. I can ask him when those times were, if that would be helpful.”
“It might be,” Sam said truthfully. He gave her his business card, writing his cell phone number on the back. “Give me a call if you remember anything.”
She took the card. “I will.”
“Can I ask why you didn’t tell the police any of this when they came by last week?” Laura asked.
Veronica looked embarrassed. “I was worried that they’d think I did something wrong. The lady detective asked me about Colton’s friends, and I told her the same thing I told you—he didn’t have any. I should have told her the rest, but I was exhausted. I’d just worked a double shift and had been up all night finishing a term paper. I was afraid I’d say something wrong and get myself into trouble, especially since I didn’t report his abuse.”
“You weren’t obligated to report anything,” Laura said firmly.
Veronica looked only partially relieved. “I still should have. I was just scared of him. Men like him who get arrested for beating their wives are often back home a few hours later. I can talk to her now.”
“I’ll let her know,” Sam promised. He held out his hand and she shook it. “Thank you. You might have saved some lives.”
Her smile was brilliant. “Then it was worth reliving it all. I hope you get this settled, Dr. Reeves, so that you can go back to helping homeless kids. I volunteer at New Horizons and it’s a good place. I don’t think I would have been as comfortable talking to you if I hadn’t known you volunteered there, too.”
Sam gave Laura a grateful look before returning his gaze to Veronica. “Maybe I’ll see you there. Good luck with your studies.”
“Thank you. You guys have a good night. I think I’m going to take the long way back to my place. It’s a pretty night for a walk.”
Sam looked over his shoulder as he and Laura walked back to her car. Veronica was walking slowly, her face lifted to the twilight sky, her expression peaceful. Serene, as if the weight of her secrecy had been lifted from her shoulders.
“I need to call Kit,” Sam said quietly. Veronica’s recollections could be even more important than Maureen’s video.
